Cockroach Squad
by Tierra Lancer
Summary: In which we follow an unfortunate peon as he goes on an adventure he won't forget. War, Thrall, orcs, humans, and lots of very lame name-based puns.


Disclaimer: Do people even read these? Anyway, yes, Warcraft and all associated are © Blizzard. 

**Cockroach Squad**

by Tierra  
  
--- 

He was a mere peon. Peon Mee. A mere peon with an exceedingly unfortunate name, but still a mere peon. 

"Peon! We need a peon over here!" 

Mee stood up and stretched, shouldering his standard issue pickaxe. He jogged over to the Raider (Krag, he remembered, that was his name - there weren't many Raiders in the base yet so it wasn't too hard to remember) who had called. The wolf-master looked down at the short Orc. "Ah, Mee! You've got your work cut out for you. We need a line of watchtowers from here--" He indicated a spot five metres from where they were. "--to there, and we need them by tomorrow." Some distance away another watchtower was already being built, where Krag was pointing with his whip. 

Mee nodded. "Yessir, I get team on it right away." 

"See that you do, and fast. Scouts have reported back that the humans are grouping for an attack and we need these towers." Krag gave the peon a friendly grin. "Don't worry," he added reassuringly. "We'll be well ready by the time they attack." He clicked his tongue at his wolf mount and twisted the reins, giving the wolf a light tap on the hindquarters with his whip. They thundered off towards where Mee could see the young Orc warchief Thrall in serious conversation with his captains. 

Mee grabbed the arm of another passing peon. "Round up six peons, bring them to Mee, go." The peon saluted and ran off. Mee was a high-ranking peon, or at least a well-respected peon, and the other peons generally followed his orders. Soon, six peons and the one he had sent off as errand-peon were lined up in front of him. Mee raised his voice to make himself heard over the general bustle of the camp. 

"Listen to Mee! Mee want watchtower all along from here to here!" He clapped his hands. "Go go go!" 

Lumber was brought in, rope, nails: construction began at the whirlwind pace of orc army settlements. Mee was working on the first watchtower in line. He ran to the lumber mill and shouldered some planks, as much as he could carry. Locking his pickaxe between his teeth, he staggered off towards the watchtower again, grunting to a nearby peon as he arrived. The peon slid a pulley noose over one end of the bundle and tightened it in the middle, carefully locking the knot, then tugged the rope twice and ran back to his previous job. Mee relaxed as the peons at the top of the wobbly construction lifted the weight of the planks off his arms and shoulders. 

Mee was sweating. It was heavy work to meet the demands of the defenders at such short notice. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Night was falling. Half the watchtowers were already finished, and he was satisfied at the rate at which they were working. The watchtowers that were finished already had defenders armed with bows and arrows, scanning the land for any sign of hostile movement. 

He heard pawsteps behind him and turned around. Krag had ridden up, surveying the defenses with evident satisfaction. "Excellent work, Mee! Are we on schedule?" 

"Ahead of schedule, sir." 

"Terrific, Warchief Thrall will be pleased! We estimate the humans will attack sometime tomorrow night, will we..." He trailed off, eyes focused on the line of construction. Mee turned too. Screaming was certainly not part of the watchtower construction process. 

Krag pulled his wolf away. "Mee! Get your teams to the burrows, fast!" His mount bounded away towards the main base, Krag blasting his horn. "To arms!" he roared. "We're being attacked!" 

Mee ran to the nearest burrow and began ringing the bell inside. He could see his fellow peons outside, sprinting for their respective burrows, and behind them, waves of human footmen and knights. Mee grabbed a bow and a quiver. He took aim carefully and fired, piercing a footman's armoured chest, shutting his ears to the screams. The burrow was filling up. Peons on his left and right were falling from the thunderous and accurate shots of the Dwarven riflemen. 

Even a mere peon like himself could tell that this base was lost. The watchtowers had been destroyed and the siege engines were turning their attentions to the main buildings. Most of the defenders had been killed and Mee himself was the last Peon alive in his burrow. He had run out of ammunition and had taken to hiding out of sight below the small bunker windows. It was only a matter of time before the invaders turned their attention to the burrow he was in. 

"Mee! Mee!" 

Mee thought this was an odd battlecry until he realised that someone was calling his name. Krag's blood-streaked form was in the burrow entrance. He looked frantic, a bloody sabre in one hand, motioning desperately with the other. "C'mon, we gotta fall back, or we're all doomed!" Mee looked on, surprised that he, a mere Peon, was apparently worth saving. Krag's gestures became more and more frantic. "Move, dammit! We have to go! Are any other peons alive in here?" 

Mee thought it was obvious, but shook his head anyway and ran out. Krag leapt onto the back of his panting wolf mount and pulled Mee up behind him. He jammed his heels roughly into the wolf's sides - kindness to animals had gone out the window. The wolf reared up with a snarl and bounded towards the other side of the base, away from the human forces. Bullets and magical blasts were tearing up the ground behind and on either side of them. The wolf leapt nimbly from side to side, trusting to luck that none of the missiles would find them. Mee clung onto Krag's belt for dear life, his eyes shut tight. 

Finally, over the explosions and cries, he heard Warchief Thrall's familiar, reassuring voice from his left. "Lead them out of here, Krag! Stay together and move as fast as you can!" 

Krag's deep-throated marshalling shout echoed out. "Move out, boys!" 

Mee felt the wolf lurch forward with a growl and they were off. He kept his eyes shut to the wind. He could hear the paws of the mounts of other riders and the heavy boots of the grunts around him. Had any other peons survived? How many were they riding with? Where were they going? He concentrated on staying on, locking his legs under the straps of the saddle, digging his hands into Krag's belt. 

It was all too much for a little peon to handle. He wasn't sure when it was that he dozed off. 

- End of Chapter One -   
  
Author's Notes: And so, my obsession with the faceless grunts continues.  
This story was spawned from two things. The first was the tactic I usually use when I know I'm lost in a battle - gather any remaining units and send them off into the wilderness. It doesn't help me win, but it sure as hell pisses off whoever I'm up against as they travel the entire map, looking for me. This group of travellers has since been dubbed "that damn cockroach squad she keeps hiding".  
The second catalyst for this story was me saying, "I want to write a story about a Peon. They're cute. What should I call him?" to which my brother replied, "Peon Mee." Crude, but I don't care. It made me laugh. So credit (or curse, depending on if you liked or loathed this) goes to him.  
And now for the end-of-chapter questions you know you love - how many inhabitants of the doomed Orc base survive? Did Thrall escape the clutches of the evil humans? Will Krag's poor wolf ever be allowed to stop running? Find out in the next thrilling chapter of "Cockroach Squad"! 

T


End file.
